No Other Way Out
by Royal Crown
Summary: No one would care if I died, absolutely no one. But I'll show them, I kill them all. And then I will win and no longer will I be useless


**No Other Way Out.  
Better run, I'm coming after you. I'll come when you're asleep at night. There's nothing you can do, no place you can hide because I'm coming after you. There's no other way out.  
Okay, so in this HG story, the tributes must have lived in a mental institution or behavioral hospital at one point in their life. This story follows a boy named Four who used to have anxiety attacks and a girl named Spirit, that even I have no clue what's she is even like. This idea (the mental institution one) has been given to me by Rose Hunter, so thank you. Go check out her stories. Kay, ENJOY!  
**_  
Part 1: The tributes *rewritten*  
__**Four's POV**_**  
** I sit on the banks, hidden by tall grasses and trees. Sighing, I lay back; today is the reapings. Yeah, nothing special, just like every other year one boy and one girl would go to the Capitol and be forced to play their 'game'. Yes, I could easily get reaped but that's a very slim chance; my name hasn't been in it much and years ago I wasn't even allowed to go out of my 'home' because of my mental disorder, so of course my names only been in it four times. But now, I'm at a greater risk. I frown at the memory.  
_"Welcome, welcome!" Announces Caesar Flickerman, the camera swooping over the capitol's audience; the whole lot of them. Millions of people waiting for this year Quarter Quell big surprise. President Snow steps out on stage and they all go wild. Caesar holds an open box with thick white envelopes in it; President Snow delicately picks one out and breaks the wax.  
"To show to all those who were driven insane, this year's Quarter Quell tributes must have resided in a mental institution." The crowd goes wild and the T.V. is turned off.  
_  
So many of us, who we thought were safe, who would never have to face this horrible death, now have to go into the arena. Though I now work at the asylum, I did live there at once. Still do, to be honest. That's my one and only home, has been since I was fourteen, and I don't think I'll leave it until I'm married. Of course, I'll still work there but I won't be there full time like I do now.  
I force myself to move and check the lines for any crab, lobsters and fish. I haul in the crates and I am surprised by what I caught. Fishes fill the basket, it's really unbelievable. I sling the rope through the two crates, and lift them onto my back before tying the rope around my waist. Placing the other one under my left arm, I bend down and pick up my spear before beginning the long trek back to the mental institution. I drop my haul back at the kitchen and continue my way. I knock on the doors, waking the patients up.  
One girl- who has multi-personalities- speaks to me, "You have no shirt on." She says. I smile and explain that I've been out fishing. She smiles and claps her hands together; she has to be around 13 and I'm scared for her, what if she gets called? She's so tiny and sweet, even with her dual-personalities. I continue making my rounds, trying to shake the fear off. I'm almost done waking everyone up, so I could finally get dressed and have a quick power nap. But when I come across Spirit's room, I know she's in a deep sleep and would take much forcing to get her out of bed, like every year.  
"Spirit! Time to get up!" I shout into her room. She slowly sits up, clutching her blankets to her chest, and stares at me with her honey-coloured eyes. She rolls her eyes in disgust and carefully swings her legs over her bed and standing up. I watch her as she stretches and bends backwards. She notices and glares at me before I rush off.  
_Foolish boy!_ I scream at myself. Never had I done a thing like that. Mentally kicking myself, I walk over and get dressed. Beige Cargo pants and an aqua-blue polo shirt. I button it up while walking out of my room, helping everyone else.  
"You forgot to brush your hair." My friend, Lucy, says. She also works here but's never lived here. I stick my tongue out at her and run my fingers through my hair. We, along with the other attendants, lead everyone to the main square. I look at the ocean and wish I was back there. I get my finger pricked and we're organized by age.  
Ready or not, here I go.

_Spirit's POV_

Let's just say I was not happy. I would rather be swimming or reading a book or hunting for fish or… or… or I don't know! But not this. Anything but this. I don't like being around people, but yet I got my finger pricked and shoved into the crowd of the people. To be honest, I've had a rough past. And this was not going to make it any easier. So I stand and braid my thick snow-white hair. I gaze around with my normal glare; many people say that I have a warm gaze, but if you receive my glare, well it's not warm and homely, it is freezing cold. But I wait and watch. Until the lady comes, CeCe, I think. She walks to the bowls and welcomes us.  
"Welcome, welcome, everybody! This year, as you know, is a Quarter Quell!" She smiled, waiting for us cheer or clap. We didn't. The salty breeze ruffled everyone's hair, blowing stray strands from my braid. "Ladies first!" She smiled and I noticed the breeze didn't ruffle her too stiff hair.  
"Spirit Locks!"  
It takes me a minute to register…  
No!

_Four's POV_  
I watched as Spirit walked to the stage. I've worked with her, trying to get her to talk. She had a rough past, but I don't remember it that much, but she screamed her voice hoarse so it's now a ghostly whisper. Back when she used to speak, that is. I watch her glance over, her honey-comb eye finally resting on the boys bowl.  
CeCe dips her hand into the bowl and pulls out a name, "Clint Young."  
I walk up onto the stage, "I go by Four."  
"Well, nice to meet you Four! Now, you two, shake hands!" She says in a sing-song voice.  
We do and soon we in a car – a really plush car- and in a train. I look around before I start devouring the food. Spirit's nowhere to be seen but soon she's back, in different clothes then her blouse and skirt. Green military-style jackets, grey shirt and blue jeans with boots. I see that around her neck is a small heart on a string. The heart is strange; it has a different texture, seashell maybe? I'll have to ask- that's if she'll respond. She sits down at one of the built in couches and stares off into the distance, lost in the blue skies and sunshine.

_Spirit's POV  
_ I lay there on the couch, feeling the hum of the train underneath my body. I slowly sink in and out of memories, nothing has ever compared to this. Well, except one memory, one twisted memory which made me scream my voice out until I ruined it. I fade in and out of that memory, struggling to fight it. I locked that memory up but still… I remember it every single second of every day. What they did to her…. It… it wasn't necessary! Tears gather at my eyes and soon, I'm swallowed into that living hell of my past.  
_ It was night time….My mother had been unwell for quite some time so she lived in a mental institution; I lived with her, though I didn't know what it was… all I knew was that my 'home' was for 'poorly' people. But the last past days, my mother was not right? I'm not sure how she wasn't, but I felt it in me. So did the workers. I was sitting in my bed, my mother's back to me. She was bent over, clutching something and muttering. Then peacekeepers and nurses came into our room, and dragged her out. She screamed, I screamed though only because she was. They dragged her into the hallway and I followed. Down down, down, the hallway until we were outside. They set her in the middle of the mosaic circle. Still screaming and crying, she lunged at one of them with her hidden blade. It went right through his throat. I screamed louder at the sight of the dead man. I heard whips and more screams. My screams went louder. Then a crack of a gun and my mother laid there on the ground, dead as the dead could be.  
Then, in that moment, I screamed the loudest any person could scream unless it was necessary. I had just witnessed my mother die….  
_ Tears where running down my face by the time my little memory was over. I didn't cry out loud or scream during that memory. I couldn't unless something- like a chemical- forced me to. It was impossible. I had a ghost of a voice, rarely spoke and when I did, it was never nice. No one would care if I died, absolutely no one. But I'll show them, I kill them all. And then I will win and no one underestimate the spirit

_Four's POV  
_ I play cards with my 2 mentors, Carter and Pierce. "So, Four, tell us why you changed your name?"  
"Four reasons."  
"Which would be?" Pressed Pierce.  
I lean back, kicking my feet up on the table. "Secret. You might just find out why."  
"And what about her?" Carter asked, nodding towards where Spirit was laying.  
I purse my lips, trying to remember the scraps of information about her. "She doesn't talk, rumor has it that she screamed her voice to death, I don't believe it though. She's just stubborn."  
"Girls these days." Snorted Pierce.  
"You like her." Teased Carter.  
"Haha, very funny." I say in a dry tone. Running my hand through my raven-black hair, I look at her. She looked at me.  
Honey eyes clashed against blue eyes.  
For the first time in my life, I had never been so terrified.


End file.
